


Seven Hours

by LillyRose



Category: Big O
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillyRose/pseuds/LillyRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few hours of downtime in the lives of Roger Smith and Dorothy Wayneright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nyssa23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyssa23/gifts).



> Dear Nyssa23, happy holidays! I really loved the chance to write for these characters again. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it for you.
> 
> Thanks to my beta, Zola.

The note was slipped beneath the front door in the early morning hours. It was black typewriter print on nondescript white paper and contained no signature or other identifying marks. The message it contained was simple. _Mr. Smith_ , it read, _I have vital information pertaining to the Martin matter. I will call you between the hours of noon and seven p.m. Please be home to take my call, as I will speak to no one but you._

Roger Smith laid the note on the dining room table, beside his empty breakfast plate. “What do you make of it Norman?” he asked his trusted butler. The older man carefully considered his answer. 

“I seem to recall, sir, that some of the neighborhood children have been engaged in an elaborate prank war,” he said. “Perhaps you've been unwittingly involved in one of those pranks.”

Roger shook his head. “I don't think so,” he disagreed. “This feels...different. I can't help but think it might be a distraction from the Martin negotiation. What better way to distract me than to keep me waiting by the phone all day?”

“Or maybe the note is exactly what it appears to be,” said the young woman at the opposite end of the dining room table. Both men turned their attention to her. “After all, the Martin negotiation involves many powerful people,” Dorothy Wayneright continued. “Whoever wrote that note may wish to remain anonymous for their own protection. I would.”

Roger arched an eyebrow. “Are you seriously suggesting that I sit and wait seven hours for a call that may never come?”

“Yes,” she said.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I am certain that you have nothing else to do today.”

Norman made a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter though he was trying to make it sound like a cough. Roger glared at Dorothy. She remained cool and unmoved beneath his anger. 

“Dorothy, that was uncalled for,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. “I only meant that your schedule is free of appointments today.”

He threw his napkin down on the table. “And how do you know my schedule? Never mind. What I mean, Dorothy, is that despite all your efforts you still have a lot to learn about the nuances of human communication.”

He pushed himself away from the table and stood up. “Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to get dressed. Then I'm going to sit in my office and wait for the phone to ring, since I have nothing else to do today.”

Roger walked out of the room. Dorothy turned her head to look Norman.

“I don't understand what just happened,” she admitted to him.

Norman nodded. “Help me clean up breakfast and I'll explain.”

 

 

From noon to three o'clock, the phone did not ring. At five after, a knock sounded on Roger Smith's office door.

“Come in,” he said.

The door opened. Dorothy cracked the door open and stood in the doorway.

“Norman sent me,” she said. “He wants to know if we should delay dinner, given the circumstances.”

Smith's handsome face registered irritation. “No,” he said. “When I am home, we follow the schedule. I'd like my dinner on time. If we need to, we can leave the dining room doors open to hear the phone in the hallway.”

She nodded. “I'll tell him,” she said. She made to leave. 

The expression on his face softened. “Dorothy, wait,” he said. The android stopped to look at him, one hand still on the doorknob. “I wanted to apologize for snapping at you earlier.”

“There's no need to apologize. I wasn't offended,” she said. 

A smile pulled at his mouth. “Just accept my apology, alright?” Roger said. 

“If it makes you feel better, I accept,” she said.

He leaned back in his large chair. “Thank you.”

Her dark eyes slid sideways. “Do you think whoever left that note will call you soon?” she asked, her attention now focused on the silent phone.

“I certainly hope so,” he said. “I'm not thrilled to be sitting in my office all day. There's only so much paperwork I can do. I'm even almost out of that. I have to admit that I'm getting a little bored.”

Dorothy turned her eyes back to him. “Bored,” she repeated.

“Yes bored,” he said. “Haven't you ever been bored?”

“No,” she answered promptly. “I'm not capable of it.”

Roger gave her a look of disbelief.

“It's true,” she said. “It's impossible to be bored when you're capable of thinking of several ideas at once.”

“Several things at once, huh,” he said. “Okay, I'll bite: what several ideas do you have at the moment?”

Dorothy's eyes went slightly fuzzy. “I'm having this conversation with you,” she answered evenly. “I'm considering the themes in the novel I recently read. I'm reviewing the list of errands Norman gave me.” She paused. Her eyes snapped back into focus and looked him over. “And I'm almost always wondering about your possible reasons for dressing like a funeral home director.”

“What I chose to wear in my own home is my own business!”

“I knew that would be the idea that you chose to discuss,” she said evenly.

 

 

Dinner came and went. An hour later, at six thirty, Roger emerged from his office even more frustrated than before he went in.

He found Norman dusting a table top. “I'm stepping outside for a moment,” Roger told him. “I need a breath of fresh air. If that phone rings, tell whoever making me wait to wait a minute themselves and then come find me.”

The older man nodded. “Very good sir,” he said.

Roger stepped out onto the terrace. He frowned in disapproval.

“Must you insist on doing that?” he asked the young woman who was not quite on the terrace. Dorothy's deceptively small body balanced perfectly on the edge of the railing.

“Yes,” she said. “I like the view.”

He shook his head. “You can't get the same view from here on the terrace?”

“No.”

Roger stood beside her perch. He leaned against the railing and crossed his arms across his chest. He looked up at her but Dorothy didn't look back at him. Her eyes stayed fixed on the horizon.

“Why does it bother you?” she asked him after a moment. 

He made a noise of disbelief. “Why does it bother me?” he said. “Dorothy, logically I know you won't fall. Your reflexes are probably better than mine.”

“They are better than yours, Roger.”

“I'll let that pass. The problem is that, at this moment, you resemble the young girl you were meant to be. It goes against all of my instincts to allow a young girl to put herself in jeopardy.” 

Dorothy looked down at him. “That's illogical,” she pointed out.

“That's human,” Roger countered. “Now, for my sake, would you please come down from there?”

She gave him a long look. Then she climbed down as carefully as a human being would climb down from a high place. He shook his head at her antics.

“What, no acrobatics today?” he asked.

“I felt like trying something new,” she replied.

He turned around and rested his arms on the railing. Dorothy stood beside him, mirroring his pose. Together they looked out over the city skyline. After a long moment of companionable silence, Dorothy spoke.

“No one has called,” she said, her words more a statement then a question. 

“No,” he said. “There's still half an hour to go, but I have my doubts that it matters.”

“Are you upset?” 

He looked sideways at her. “Am I upset about what?” he asked.

“About wasting a day waiting.”

He appeared to consider the answer carefully. “I'm not upset,” he said. “I'm worried. As you said earlier, the Martin negotiation involves a lot of powerful people. I hope nothing happened to our source.”

Dorothy nodded once, a sharp movement of agreement. 

“Besides, I wouldn't call the day a complete waste,” Roger continued. “A little downtime is always nice.”

“Even when you're bored?”

His mouth twitched up. “Even when you're bored,” he repeated.

 

 

 

_No Side_


End file.
